The Apocalypse Aversion
by XMarisolX
Summary: In the 24 hours following a cataclysmic event, Leonard and Sheldon find love in a hopeless place. This is an AU fic that takes place before Season 1. Artwork by the one and only Rubyanjel. CHAPTER 6: "When he told me he wanted to have my babies, I just figured he and Raj were considering surrogacy or something."
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Written for the Big Bang Big Bang 2012. If you noticed that it's not 2012 anymore (and barely 2013) give yourself a cookie. Also, give my beta, Lionne, a lot of cookies. She deserves them. Kick-ass cover art by Rubyanjel  
**Disclaimer:** _The Big Bang Theory_ is an American sitcom created by Chuck Lorre and Bill Prady, and is produced by them along with Stever Molaro. It is a Warner Brothers production and airs on CBS. All characters, plots and creative elements derived from the source material belong exclusively to their respective owners. I, the author of the fan fiction, do not, in any way, profit monetarily from the story.

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

Saturday mornings were usually pretty slow at the comic book store. Nerds, gamers, comic book aficionados and bill collectors usually didn't start prowling the city until the sun was overhead. Even so, Stuart couldn't afford to be closed. If he sold even _one_ thing, it meant he was one item closer to staying out of debtor's prison.

He was watching Saturday morning cartoons on a small TV he kept behind the counter when the bells on the door rang out their jangly call. He looked up, only to discover that his most faithful customers had arrived: Leonard Hofstadter and Sheldon Cooper. He stood up and leaned on the counter.

"Good morning, guys," he said.

"Good morning," came back two muffled replies.

"Let me guess," he said, "you're here to pick up your special order."

"Of course we are," Sheldon said. "Wednesday is New Comic Book Night, and today, sir, is not Wednesday. I forfeited my Saturday morning routine of watching _Doctor Who_ over a bowl of cereal to make the trip down here, and I would never do so lightly." He thought a moment. "Of course, it was a re-run, but the point still stands."

"Fine," Stuart said, reaching below the counter. "Here you are." He produced two brown paper bags that were stapled shut, one marked "L.H." and the other "S.C." Both men anxiously opened the parcels, excited to check out their new loot.

There was, of course, a problem.

"Where are the role-playing cards?" Sheldon said, scandalized. "We both specifically ordered the Iron Man board game and the role-playing card to match. These bags only contain the board game."

"Right," Stuart said, suddenly remembering. "I meant to tell you they're on back order. After Robert Downey Jr. got in that car accident, role-playing game sales went up. They couldn't keep up with the demand. They should be here in a week."

"But we _did_ pay extra to have it rush ordered," Leonard said. "Ten bucks I think."

"Indeed we did," Sheldon said, more agitated with each passing second. "I demand a full refund at once."

"Yeah… I can't do that," Stuart said.

"Why not?" Leonard asked.

"I'm a little short on cash." He pressed a few buttons and the cash register popped open with a ding, revealing that it was empty.

"Well then I suggest that you become un-short on cash, Mister," Sheldon said. "It is absolutely appalling that you, a so-called purveyor of books, cards, and playthings designed to entertain the masses and furnish Pasadena with tales of fantasy and diversion would make such a gross failing in—"

"Cool it, Sheldon," Leonard said, exasperated. "No one wants to hear that long-winded diatribe. If you use up _all_ the words, you won't leave any for anybody else."

"That's nonsense," Sheldon said, baffled and standing up straight. "One person can't use up 'all the words.' Words aren't a finite commodity."

Leonard shook his head. "Stuart, is there any way we can get our money back?" he asked wearily.

Stuart took a glance around the store. "Um, sure. I can throw in some other cards until the ones you ordered arrive. Pick from any you see in the bargain bin. They are all worth between ten and 15 dollars."

Leonard shook his head. "Nah, that's okay. It's not your fault they got here late and I'd hate for you to lose the money."

The statement amused Stuart. "Oh, what's $15 when you're $32,000 in debt and living in the break room?"

"No, keep them," Leonard insisted. "We couldn't."

"Speak for yourself," Sheldon said as he elbowed his way pass Leonard and commenced to rifling through the plastic tub. He emerged with World of Darkness cards. "I haven't seen these babies in a while," he said gleefully. "I'll take them." He hurried back to the cash register, gleeful and bright, and plopped the slick box of cards on the cool counter.

"Enjoy, sir," Stuart said, maybe sarcastically.

"I will." Sheldon replied and stared at the cards contentedly. "You know, I was going to wait until New Comic Book Night to come and pick this order up, but now I am glad that I didn't. It's scarcely,"—he checked his watch—"nine o'clock and it's already shaping up to be an amazing day."

"Yeah," Stuart said, his voice world-weary. "Any day I'm _giving away_ merchandise is definitely a _good_ day."

* * *

Locked in a stand-off that was becoming more common, Meemaw sat in her kitchen table staring up at her daughter. The pleated curtains, Formica cabinets, and kitschy wallpaper all stood witness to the mother and daughter locking horns between their walls, and neither woman was budging.

"Momma," Mary said, gesturing sternly and using the voice she used when her patience was wearing thin, "I'm only gonna tell you this one more time. You complain about the headaches, your feet swelling and your heart racing, but come time to take the medication you don't want to. Now, you took care of me as a child and it's my turn to take care of you but, Lord knows, you won't let me. So either you're gonna let me give you these pills or I'm gonna grab my purse and go home."

Supremely agitated, Meemaw gripped the armrests of the chair she was sitting in and leveled a defiant eye at Mary. "Don't you sass me, Mary. If Moonpie was here he would never talk to me like that."

"Well fine, let Moonpie give you your pills," she said, slamming the plastic container to the table with a muted thump and crossing her arms. "Although, I don't know how he's going to do that all the way from California."

Meemaw waved her arthritic hand. "Aw, never mind you."

Just then Missy rushed into the kitchen and stopped just inside the door. Mary turned to her daughter, intending to plead for her help in getting Meemaw to take her medication but was stopped, mid-word, by what she saw. Missy was breathing hard, her shoulders and chest visibly falling and rising, and her eyes darted between her mother and grandmother, nothing short of panic on her face.

Mary knew it was bad, and cold terror ran though her body.

"Lord Jesus," she whispered to herself. "Missy, what is it?"

* * *

It was a moment before Leonard registered that he was on the floor and another moment before he could feel the throbbing in his head. He opened his eyes, and when everything was still black, he flew into a panic, flailing his arms around. Fortunately, he was buried under a shallow pile, and quickly freed himself under the fallen items. Dinged up with minor pains, he rose slowly and took a look around. The comic book store was in complete disarray, the electricity was out and he could only see from a trickle of light coming in from a jagged crack in the ceiling. He looked around and didn't see Sheldon or Stuart.

"SHELDON!" he called, frantic. A moment later, he saw a hand emerge several feet away and scrambled over to loosen his friend from the debris. Pushing books, boxes, pieces of sheet rock and concrete aside, he helped Sheldon to his feet.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"A bit shaken," Sheldon said, "but as I have my life and health, I think the term 'okay' will do." He started brushing off what debris and dust had settled on him. "And you?"

Leonard took a look at himself. "Surprised to be alive."

There was the sound of shifting glass. Both men took a sweeping look around.

"Where's Stuart?" Sheldon asked.

"STUART!" Leonard called. There was no answer. "STUART!" he called more urgently. Sheldon joined in calling for him.

"I'm over here," came a weak voice, and Leonard hurried over to where he heard the call. Through the gaps in the fallen wreckage, Leonard could see that Stuart was pinned under the fallen counter.

"Stuart, wait," he said, winding through the debris to where he saw a metal broom. He grabbed it and carefully made his way back to where Stuart was. "Give me a hand," he called to Sheldon, and the two of them used the broom as a lever to lift the broken counter off of Stuart. As it rose, they could see he was covered in broken glass. He seemed like he was in pain.

"Are you hurt?" Leonard asked, pushing the counter out of the way.

"Ugh," Stuart groaned. Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet, but he was gripping his right arm. "I think I might have broken my arm," he said, wincing. His face and arms where covered in tiny lacerations.

"Ok; wait right here," Leonard said. "I'm going to go and get help."

"What should I do?" Sheldon asked.

Leonard debated whether Sheldon should stay or go, but since Sheldon had an bedside manner that left much to be desired, Leonard thought it would be better if he came along. Besides, who knew what awaited them outside. He may need a companion.

"Come with me," he said. Taking one final glimpse at Stuart, Sheldon followed him to the twisted, broken door, and they wrestled their way out.

Once outside, the flood of sunlight overwhelmed their eyes and they squinted against the rays, blocking the sun with their hands. Both men took a look at each other and then out at the destruction all around them. The air was punctured with the sounds of sirens, screeching horns, yelling, and the cries of babies.

In a word, it was bedlam.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Leonard looked out at the scene of destruction before him and was rendered speechless by what he saw. Even the famously loquacious Sheldon Cooper was at a loss for words.

Usually, the best friends only visited this part of Pasadena (the part where the comic book store was) at night, and it looked surprisingly different in the light of day. The fact that it had been recently demolished by an earthquake only made it look more foreign. The boys might as well have been stepping off of the Starfleet Enterprise and looking out onto an unknown world. Water poured out of fired hydrants, and whole buildings were cracked and compromised, if not shaken to their foundations. Small animals—cats, dogs and the occasional squirrel—flitted behind trucks and into toppled garbage bins. Many things—trees, lampposts, cars—were not where they should be. Also, the world was suddenly very loud. Sirens, alarms and distress signals all screamed for help.

The boys were not alone in their helplessness. Much like themselves, aimless wanderers were beginning to emerge from the wreckage—congregating in the streets and trying to make sense of what had just happened. They were all seeking the same things: water, food, shelter...and answers. All four things were in short supply.

"Good God," Leonard finally muttered under his breath. He took a few halting steps off the curb and into the street.

"Where are we going to go?" Sheldon asked from where he stood, a few paces behind.

"I...I dunno," Leonard stammered. He glanced back at the door of the comic book store and thought of Stuart inside. "But we can't stay here." He took a sweeping look around and spotted a police officer a ways off, maybe a hundred feet away. "There's a cop," he said and hurried down the block after him, as fast as he could, as he stumbled and climbed over fallen debris. "Officer!" he called. "Officer!"

The man turned around.

"Yes," he answered, his voice official and composed. Leonard could only imagine what it felt like to be in the other man's position at this moment; it wasn't an enviable one.

"Yes, I um…" Leonard stuttered. It seemed that, now that he had someone's attention, he wasn't sure what to ask for first. The police officer seemed to notice his hesitation, and moved things along.

"Sir," he said, "there honestly aren't many arrangements in place right now, and it's too early for me to tell you anything concrete. But the Mayor and the Chief of Police should be preparing a statement very soon. Meanwhile, I suggest you stay put in a safe place and sit tight by the radio."

Leonard's gaze wandered down. "I don't have a radio," he whispered to himself as much as to the officer.

"Well, at the very least, try to find a safe place for the time being," the officer said. Other victims of the quake began to yell for the cop's attention, and he turned in their direction, disengaging from his conversation with Leonard. "Take care," he said in parting, and took a few steps away. Leonard called to him again, and he stopped.

"I'm sorry," Leonard said, "but I have a friend who is hurt. I was hoping you could help him."

The officer glanced at the advancing citizens, then sighed a little—clearly overwhelmed. "Is it a life-threatening injury?"

Leonard's face must have shown that he wasn't sure which injuries constituted "life-threatening" ones, and the officer offered an explanation. "Has your friend lost consciousness, stopped breathing, sustained a lot of blood loss?"

"Um, I don't know. He has a broken arm, maybe?" Leonard answered.

The officer shook his head once. "I'll see what I can do and try to make my way back." He walked off.

As he did, Leonard couldn't help but think one thing: he was never going to see that man again.

* * *

Darkness has a way of dulling people's senses. After the initial shock of obscurity, humans settle into something more tranquil: they speak more softly, they move more slowly, they react less quickly. It was a blessing in moments like this one.

"I apologize for the confusion," came Chubby, the aptly named general manager of the Pasadena location of The Cheesecake Factory. "But the greater Los Angeles area seems to have experienced a major earthquake. We'll try to keep abreast of the news and develop a safe evacuation route as soon as the generator automatically turns on in less than 90 seconds. Until then, we ask that you remain seated, unless you've fallen from your chair, in which case we ask that you...sit down." There was a pause. "Thank you for your cooperation."

The crowd sat tight—silent and dark—except for the murmur of whispering and a few cell-phone screens that lit a face here and there.

Penny—an aspiring actress who had chosen _that_ day to pick up an extra shift—sat in the corner ruing the fact that she hadn't been at home, snuggling under the sheets and making love to her big, brawny boyfriend Kurt while the world came to an end. Instead, she was working the morning shift at the Factory, and something told her the tips that day were going to be awful. She was counting backwards from a hundred to take her mind off the fact that she was sitting on a sticky carpet, in the dark, ruining her last _wearable_ uniform when she heard someone crying. After listening another moment, it sounded like the sniffles of a small child. She heard a second voice, the soothing tones of a mother, comforting the frightened toddler and, for the first time, the thought crossed Penny's mind that this was very serious. That they could have died. That...

That _she_ could have died.

She felt a rush of panic go through her and her stomach fluttered. She thought of something that her own mother had taught her when she was just a little girl, and bowed her head.

"Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name," she whispered to herself. Someone tapped her on the shoulder.

"Say a little prayer for me, too," the voice said. It sounded like the hostess, Summer.

"I will," Penny said and, bowing again, continued on. "Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done…" She only got so far when her memory started to get a little fuzzy: were you supposed to ask for your transgressions to be forgiven or for bread first? Also, wasn't there a part about doing unto others? As she mentally sorted out the details, a loud, grinding, mechanical noise grumbled from outside, and a second later the lights came on. Although it was still rather dim inside, cheers went up in the crowd, followed by the shuffling of chairs, the screech of tables, and the rise of voices as people started to stand, utensils clinked against plates, and conversations resumed in earnest. Chubby reappeared, erect and official, to guide the crowds.

"Feel free to finish your meals if you so desire," he began, but almost immediately after, he noticed that every scrap of food they'd served was on the floor. He hurried on. "More importantly, we are asking that everyone move to the exits in the order in which your table is called. The waitresses will be assisting you shortly."

Penny figured that meant her and rose to her feet, winding her way to where Chubby was. The other waitresses did the same. The group had an impromptu staff meeting.

"Penny, your tables are first, then Cassidy's, then Kiara's, then Trish's." He pointed as he spoke. "Summer, you help people out of the doors, okay?" Patty nodded her agreement. "Now, we're going to—"

He was interrupted by a loud scream.

"You took my wallet!" a woman cried out.

"I didn't take your damn wallet, lady," a man replied. Another man piped up.

"Who are you talking to?" he said, his voice resonant and angry.

"You," the first man replied threateningly and stood closer to the other man, too close to his face. "Got a problem with it?"

"You better not touch my husband," a second woman yelled.

Meanwhile, another party had managed to get into a skirmish.

"You were drinking off of my drink!" came one voice.

In another corner was more bickering. "You bumped into me without even saying excuse me!"

The clamor of voices was rising, and Penny could barely make out one argument from another. "That's my umbrella!" "Where's my cell phone?" "No one's leaving until I get my other shoe back!" "I want my money back!" "It's hot in here!" "I can't breathe!"' Just when the noise got insufferable, more bad news came. Danny, one of the busboys, ran up to Chubby.

"The electric doors must have shorted. They are stuck closed."

They all looked to see several patrons banging against the metal doors.

"Get me out of this frickin' restaurant!" one woman yelled.

"Dammit," Chubby muttered. "Just what we need." He raced off to try to get the door open. Meanwhile, the waitresses were witnessing a complete meltdown in the dining room. Dinner rolls started flying, a couple verbal altercations turned physical, kids were running around underfoot, and she heard more than a few infants, children, women—and likely even men—crying and screaming.

The restaurant was descending into anarchy.

To get the attention of the crowd, Cassidy grabbed a nearby ceramic vase and started banging on it with a serving spoon, but to no avail—the mayhem went on unabated. Penny knew that they only had seconds before it would reach the point of no return. She jumped up on a table and, shoving two fingers in her mouth, blew as hard as she could from the depths of her core. A shrill whistle cut through the air, piercing the eardrums of everyone in even _yelling_ distance.

"EVERYBODY SHUT THE HELL UP!" she yelled.

Everything and everyone came to a screeching halt and the room fell deadly silent—silent, except for a stubborn tussle in the corner. She spotted the security guard (who up until that point had been doing absolutely nothing) and pointed to him.

"Break them up," she commanded. He scurried off and pulled the two men apart with the help of two other diners, and Penny glared at the two men. "Now cut it out," she growled. "If either one of you throws even _one_ more punch, I will lock you _both_ up in the deep freezer, so help me God."

She heard a snicker.

"It's not funny!" she yelled, spinning around. "Just now, we all could have died and, instead of counting your blessings, you're busy fighting, stealing and bickering among yourselves. You ought to be ashamed."

"I still don't have my money," the original woman called from the back.

Penny knew that money was the root of all evil, and this alleged theft could flare up again at any moment. She scanned the crowd, hoping to find a guilty eye among the faces staring back at her, but she had no such luck. She would have to stall for time until she could come up with a way to get the woman's money back. "Did you check your bra?" she asked.

The woman patted her left boob, and her face turned red.

"Never mind," she muttered.

"Now that that mystery's solved," Penny said, rolling her eyes, "I have an announcement: the doors on the building are broken." More moans and groans punctured the air. "BUT," she hollered. "_But_, they are working on it. So everybody, sit down, relax, and we are going to bring out waters for you guys until the doors get fixed. Understood?"

She got no answer.

"_UNDERSTOOD?!_" she yelled.

A chorus of 'understood's came back at her.

"Good," she said, and finally descended from the table. She started towards the kitchen.

"You're totally badass," Summer said giddily as she followed behind her.

"I know," Penny said with a shrug.

* * *

A young neurobiologist rose to her feet and, after straightening the glasses on her face, examined her lab. Like most research facilities of its ilk, it was suitably reinforced and so the walls had withstood the earthquake, but the same could not be said for the items inside the room. Books, computers, tables and the like were strewn everywhere and only the dim light from the generator-powered bulbs overhead kept her from being in complete darkness. She had to get out of there—just as soon as she did one more thing. As she searched the lab frantically, her supervisor, Dr. Meloni, appeared in the door.

"Dr. Fowler," she said, the tone of her voice severe, "we must go—_now_."

"I'll be out in a jiffy, Dr. Meloni," Amy replied, her search continuing. "Only, I'm trying to get Specimen Number 2485697 out of his cage."

Her supervisor was appalled, gesturing towards the cages. "We can't endanger _human_ lives to preserve the lives of research animals."

Amy protested. "But Franklin is one of my dearest friends. We have lunch together on Tuesdays."

"You _name_ the monkeys?" her supervisor asked.

"No," Amy answered. "Just Franklin."

A siren sounded just as the lighted flickered a little; it was evident from the look on her face that her patience was wearing thin.

"These primates have been exposed to high dosages of communicable diseases and, without access to the digital medical records, we don't know which are healthy and which are contagious."

"Oh, Franklin's not infected," Amy assured. "I made sure he got in the control group. He's as healthy as the day he was sent here. If you're curious, he was banished from the San Diego Zoo after throwing feces at one of the zoo's visitors. We were lucky enough to get him."

There was the sound of a large crash and the building shook a little. Dr. Meloni grabbed the door jamb to steady herself.

"Amy, I'm leaving," she announced. "The building is unstable and could collapse at any minute. If you were wise, you'd come with me." She went to leave then turned back around. "Please be warned that you are taking your life in your hands," she said, and then disappeared from sight.

Somewhat chastened and jarred by the tremor, Amy redoubled her efforts at rummaging through fallen objects on the floor. Suddenly, she found the keys and scrambled to open Franklin's cage. He made high-pitched, chirping sounds in delighted appreciation.

"Come on little, guy," she said, placing him on her shoulder. "There's no way you're going to escape the San Diego Zoo and then die in a collapsed research lab."

She tucked a handful of treats in her lab coat and ran for the door.

* * *

Meemaw had bought the only color television she ever owned back in 1982 and had given it the best seat in the house—atop her mother's dressing table, which she had drug into the living room. Nearly three decades later there it was, only feet away from the spot where Sheldon and Missy used to sit in front of it, crossed legged, as childrenand watch _Reading Rainbow_ while their grandmother made cookies in the kitchen. These days, the antiquated device was as aged as its devoted owner, and suffered from terrible sound and a blinking picture. Meemaw, however, refused to buy a new one because she didn't like "new-fangled doo-dads." When the government decided some years before that TV should go digital, George Junior had had to sneak in her house during one of his grandmother's doctor's appointments to attach the converter box just so she would get a picture at all.

At the moment, Mary, Meemaw, and Meemaw's dog, Mildred, were all gathered around the failing picture-box, hoping against hope for good news. Missy's boyfriend, Tucker, was on his way and she was almost quaking in anticipation of holding him in her arms; in moments like this, she appreciated him even more. In the meantime, the gathered women kept their eyes trained on the earthquake coverage on the _local_ news as Missy paced in the background, talking with Junior on her cell phone. During a commercial break, Mary looked up at her daughter; she wasn't happy.

"Get off the phone with that boy, Missy, and call Shelly again," she yelled. "Unless Junior knows where Shelly is, there is nothing he has to say."

Missy sighed, overwhelmed with a barrage of competing emotions, and somewhat disappointed to be hanging up on the _one_ person who truly knew what she was going through. She reluctantly told him she had to go. George said he'd make his way down to Meemaw's house as soon as he got off work. Missy said that she'd either call him back after dinner or when they'd heard something—whichever came first. Then she hung up, took a deep breath and redialed the number she'd been dialing for the last half hour.

It went straight to voicemail.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

Sheldon was staring at his phone when he heard his name.

"Sheldon?" Leonard called again.

His head snapped up.

"I still can't seem to reach my mother," Sheldon said, frustrated. "I have no bars at all."

"Yeah," Leonard said, taking another look at the face of his own phone. "I can't get my mom either."

"Yet, but," Sheldon said, almost as if he were...disagreeing? "My mother is an emotional being, guided by deep affection and sentimentality, and so is likely somewhere in a state of unbridled panic. Meanwhile, your mother approaches life with cool logic and thus can likely soothe herself with favorable natural disaster statistics and calculated reflections on your relative youth and health."

Leonard squinted his eyes in annoyance. "Are you seriously suggesting that Mom doesn't care that I might be dead?"

Sheldon paused a moment. "Well I'm sure she _cares_."

Leonard shook his head; he almost missed the quiet Sheldon that had been in shock earlier.

"How about we just _not_ talk?" he said, then took a step off the curb. Sheldon followed.

* * *

In a typical display of her logic, Mrs. Wolowitz had stockpiled enough matzo to last them (and the greater Jewish community) until the second coming of a divinity they didn't even believe in, but didn't have enough water on hand to even brush their teeth. Worse, the last drops water in the pipes had been used to battle a cooking disaster. Naturally, going out to find more of the life-sustaining liquid had fallen to Howard. And Raj.

Their journey had brought them about five blocks from the Wolowitz house, and though they had to wind through the treacherous sidewalks and compromised streets of the suburban neighborhood, these homes had been built decades ago, and had survived worse. Alarmed, but far from panicked, they had gotten over the initial shock of the quake and quickly settled into their normal conversation.

"All that may be true," Howard said, gesturing emphatically, "but Earthquake is still one of the lamest members of the Imperial Guard."

"He isn't _totally_ lame," Raj said. "He has some appealing characteristics: that rocky skin; he can manipulate silicate matter; and remember that time that Vulcan summoned Earthquake to defend him against the leader of the Scy'ar Tal?"

"Yeah, you mean the time the leader killed him?" Howard replied.

"He died?"

"Yeah, he died."

Raj shrugged. "Well, then, yeah, he's pretty lame."

They kept walking, silent for a while.

"Do you think your mom knows you've been in an earthquake?" Howard asked all of a sudden.

"Yeah," Raj said. "It was about ten o'clock at night, her time, when the earthquake hit, so she's probably somewhere crying as we speak. Of course, she and my grandmother watch a lot of nighttime soaps, so she could be crying for a totally different reason."

"Well, thank God you stayed over last night or I would have had to hose down my mom by myself." He shook his head. "Of all the moments the quake would choose to hit, it would be while she's mixing a vat of Tahini sauce."

"All she kept saying was, 'ALL THE GUESTS AT JUDY'S BIRTHDAY PARTY ARE GOING TO BE SO DISAPPOINTED.' I was thinking. 'They'll probably be more concerned about the earthquake.'" He burst out laughing. Howard wasn't amused.

"My mother doesn't sound anything like that," he said.

"She kind of does, dude," Raj said.

"No, she doesn't. You make her sound like some Indian pre-op transvestite with anger management problems."

"Yeah, and when you did my mom last time, did I get all pissy?"

"Woah," Howard replied, raising both hands in a "stop" gesture. "I never _did_ you mom, Raj. Okay?"

"You know what I mean—the last time you imitated her voice. You made her sound like that Indian chick from_ The Office_."

"Mindy Kaling?" Howard said, baffled. "She doesn't even have an Indian accent."

"EXACTLY!" Raj yelled.

Something caught Howard's eye. "Wait," he said, and stopped dead in his tracks. Raj slowed as well.

"What?" he asked.

"That restaurant is giving away free food," Howard replied, "and where there's food there's water." He pumped his fist. "Bingo. Two for the price of one!"

Raj moaned, finally looking where Howard had been pointing. "It's an Indian restaurant."

"Yeah, so?" Howard said.

"We ventured out to find _water_," Raj said_, "not _meats stewed in curry. Besides, you know I hate Indian cuisine."

"I get that, but why turn down free food?"

Raj smiled. "Because we have tons of canned goodies at your house."

"No, _I_ have tons of canned goodies at my house. You don't have jack." Howard set off in the direction of the restaurant.

Raj rolled his eyes and followed behind him.

* * *

Sheldon and Leonard had stopped the fourth cop they had come across on their tireless quest to find someone to help Stuart, but each encounter with law-enforcement ended with either promises to find someone else or interruptions by people in situations that were far more pressing and urgent. They were twelve blocks into their sojourn and still hadn't had any success. After crossing the threshold of yet another curb, Leonard turned around to check on Sheldon, who was following behind him, looking sheepish and lost. Fortunately, Leonard also happened to spot the back of someone who looked like a nurse in scrubs. She was crouching down in front of a corner store and seemed to be leaning over a large purse. Surely she would know what to do about a broken bone.

"Excuse me," Leonard called, excitedly, as he rushed to her, maybe too excitedly. "Excuse me."

The woman looked up at him over her shoulder. Her face was pale white and she didn't say anything.

"I hate to bother you," he explained, "but I have a friend about twelve blocks from here that got pinned under a counter, and he could really use somebody to look at his—" he stopped talking; something in her face forced him too. The nurse looked like she might speak and then, all of sudden, just—

Vomited. All over the sidewalk. Only one heave, but it seemed like she had emptied the depths of her gastrointestinal system. Some of the splatter from her lurching landed on Leonard's shoes. He took a horrified step back.

"Are you...are you okay?" he asked. She only replied by wiping her mouth on her shirt, and then rose from the ground and stumbled off around the corner.

"Oh my God," Leonard said, still reeling from the experience. "Did you see that, Sheldon?" he asked, as stunned as he was rattled. When he didn't get an answer he turned around.

Sheldon looked like he might faint. He was leaning against his knees and descending into hyperventilation. Resignedly, Leonard walked into the convenience store and came out with a paper bag. He handed it to Sheldon. "Deep breaths," he said. Sheldon snatched the bag from Leonard's hand and began to gasp into it.

"I'm dying!" he said in between pants.

"You're not dying," Leonard said.

"You don't know that," Sheldon said, winded.

"Sheldon, you have got to calm down," Leonard insisted.

"CALM DOWN!" Sheldon cried, suddenly erect. "Leonard, I don't know if you've managed to notice or not, but we are in a crisis situation." Leonard rolled his eyes.

"No shit, Sherlock," he replied, exasperated.

The response snapped Sheldon out of his panicked state. "Sherlock?" he said. "My name isn't...Wait a minute. Sarcasm?"

"YES, SARCASM!" Leonard yelled.

"How could you possibly see this as a suitable time to engage in clever wordplay? I am hungry, tired, hot and sorely in need of evacuating my bowels, which have, no doubt, been loosened by the day's preceding events."

Leonard pointed to the right. "We're standing in front of a convenience store. They probably have a bathroom."

"With no running water. I'd rather die of intestinal toxicity than touch a finger to that chamber of filth."

Leonard shook his head. "Maybe you should take a moment to consider that there are a lot of people much worse off than you."

"This is a line of reasoning I've never found very compelling. How is reflecting on the desperation of others an effective method of comfort?"

Leonard was about to say that it's not supposed to comfort you, but that it's supposed to remind you of how small your own problems really are, but something caught his attention. He spotted an abandoned hot dog cart and saw it as an opportunity.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" he said, motioning for Sheldon to stay put. "Wait right here." He jogged a little down the block and, taking a glance over both shoulders, he grabbed three hot dogs and three bottles of water and ran. "Go, go, go," he yelled to Sheldon as he ran past him, and Sheldon jogged after him.

* * *

When Leonard and Sheldon got back to the comic book store, Stuart was sitting on an overturned bookcase, clutching his arm, with his head pressed against the wall. It looked like any bleeding he'd suffered had stopped, but by the look on his face, he was still in a lot of pain.

"Stuart, it's crazy out there," Leonard said as he wrestled his way back through the broken door. "Sorry we couldn't get any help. There are just too many injured people and not enough emergency personnel."

Stuart nodded, wincing a little as he did. "I understand. Maybe I'll just die here in some cruel bit of poetic justice," he said. "Like they say, 'You live by the comic book store; you die by the comic book store.'"

"I was under the impression that the correct expression was, 'Live by the sword, die by the sword,'" Sheldon said. He took a glance around. "Or course, you have a fair number of those lying around as well."

Leonard made his way over to Stuart, then sat next to him on an overturned bookcase.

"Look, you're not going to die," he said. "You just have a broken arm." He handed Stuart one of the bottles. "Here. Drink some water."

"Water that he _stole_," Sheldon pointed out.

"I didn't _steal_ it Sheldon," Leonard replied.

"Did you pay for it?"

"No, but, you know, it was just _sitting_ there."

"'Sitting there' on the cart of a hot dog vendor. 'Vendor,' meaning seller. 'Seller,' meaning he expected financial compensation for his wares, which you did not provide." He took a seat across from them on a fallen cabinet. "Thus, you stole it."

"Well the man wasn't there and Stuart's in bad shape. I didn't have any other choice, now did I?"

Meanwhile, Stuart was doing his best to unscrew the lid of the water, but couldn't.

"Here, let me," Leonard said. He took it from his hands, unscrewed the cap and handed the bottle back.

"If you part your lips to take a sip of that water," Sheldon admonished Stuart, "you are participating in the very act of theft and mob rule that Los Angeles area is so famous for. Is that what you want?"

Stuart answered the philosophical query by tilting his head back and drinking heartily. Sheldon rolled his eyes and sat watching as Leonard and Stuart polished off the rest of the dogs and drinks. Stuart, who'd largely sat in a still position, shifted his weight a little, apparently just enough to move something in his arm. He gritted his teeth, letting out an intense groan.

"Gosh," Leonard said, rubbing his own arm in sympathetic pain. "We have to do something about that arm." He looks at Sheldon. "Give me your shirt."

Sheldon looked gob-smacked. "Not my Flash shirt."

"Then give me the one underneath it," Leonard said.

Sheldon didn't like the idea of that either. "Then I'd be bare-chested."

"But only for a few seconds," Leonard reasoned.

Sheldon eyes grew large.

"Fine then," Leonard conceded. "Give me the Flash shirt."

Sheldon shook his head sheepishly, whimpering like a two-year-old boy who'd been asked to share his last cookie. "Not my Flash shirt."

"You have, like, 80," Leonard said, exasperated.

"But this one is special."

"How?"

"It...just is."

"Give it to me," Leonard demanded.

Sheldon gripped the bottom seam of the T-shirt, poised to remove it, and then froze in apprehension. Stuart piped up.

"I just gave you a free box of cards."

"And, much like the other set, they are now lost," Sheldon replied. "Have you ever considered that inconsistent delivery of goods may be a contributing factor to the difficulties you're experiencing in your business?"

"Give me the damn shirt!" Leonard yelled, and physically accosted Sheldon.

"Wait," Sheldon said, snatching himself away. "On second thought, I want to give the shirt to Stuart. The day has been harrowing enough for us all, and as a friend and loyal costumer, offering of myself in this time of need would be the right choice."

"Thanks, Sheldon," Leonard said. "You're a good friend."

"I know," Sheldon replied. Pulling the fabric over his head, he handed it to Leonard. Leonard took it and ripped it into long pieces; Sheldon winced with each rip.

"Okay," Leonard said, as he finished his prep work, "all I'm going to do is tie your arm closer to your body so it doesn't swing around and get more injured." He looked at Stuart's arm, hesitating a moment. "This might hurt."

"I kind of figured," Stuart said.

Slowly Leonard drew his hand closer to Stuart's arm. Stuart bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes in anticipation of the pain of the other man's touch—but, it never came. He opened one eye, to find Leonard just staring at him.

"You gonna tie it down or what?" Stuart asked.

"I'm no doctor," Leonard said, peering over his glasses. "But it seems like your elbow is out of socket."

"Don't tell me you have X-ray vision," Stuart said.

"Of course not. I can just tell by the way you're holding it and the way it's bulging out near the bend in your arm. I saw this all the time as a kid. One of our playmates had nursemaid elbow, and it was always popping out. We used to go and tell his mom every time it happened, but after a while we would just play rock, paper, scissors to find out whose turn it was to pop it back in. It was a thankless job. Sometimes he would bite."

"I don't know if I even _want_ you to pop it back in," Stuart said, apprehensive.

"I've done it a million times," he said, his former trepidation replaced with easy confidence. "I mean, it'll a hurt a little, but then you'll feel a lot better."

Stuart hedged a minute. "A _little_?"

"Yeah, just a little," Leonard assured him.

"Then, alright," he relented, "but Sheldon should hold my other hand while you do it."

Sheldon and Leonard looked at each other, then back at Stuart.

"Why?" Sheldon asked, worried.

"Well, you know how some people are biters? I'm a puncher."

Leonard motioned for Sheldon to take his hand. Demoralized, Sheldon moaned, but did as he was told.

"Okay. On the count of three," Leonard said, but in a lightening quick motion he popped Stuart's elbow back into place without warning. Stuart hollered to the rafters in pain.

"SON OF A—" he yelled, and his fist—that was wound around Sheldon's hand—went flying, decking Sheldon in the nose. Sheldon fell back off the bookcase and onto a toy robot; it sprang to life, blaring out the _Transformers_' theme song.

Meanwhile, Leonard admired his work. "Looks like it's back in," he said, smiling proudly. "How does it feel?"

"Like somebody ran over it with a Mac truck," Stuart groaned, scowling from the pain he must have felt.

"Well, at least it's back in place," Leonard said. "Let's get you in a sling." Then he looked down at the toy robot dancing next to Sheldon, who was writhing in a pile of comic books. "What's your problem?"

"I've been assaulted!" Sheldon cried. "Viciously attacked by the very person I was supposedly helping." He pulled his hand back and saw droplets of blood. "I'm hemorrhaging!"

"Sorry," Stuart said, with a grunt. "But, I told you. I'm a puncher."

"Then what was the point of me sullying myself by holding your hand?"

Stuart shrugged. "Guess it didn't work."

Leonard tried to diffuse the situation. "Let me get Stuart settled and then I'll get to you next."

"Good," Sheldon said. "I will need to smell the scent of a freshly cut onion to deter the bleeding and swab the interior of my nostril with white vinegar. They were the only sure-fire remedies my mother used when I suffered from nosebleeds as a boy."

"Where am I going to get an onion and white vinegar from?" Leonard asked. "Not to mention a cotton swab."

"How should I know? You're the one presenting yourself as the medical expert. Perhaps you could steal them, like you did with those hot dogs."

"I do know one remedy that might work," Leonard said. "Blow out your cheeks and count to five hundred."

Sheldon pondered the suggestion for a moment. "I have my doubts as to the efficacy of _that_ particular method," Sheldon said, "but in the absence of an alternative, I'll do it." He inflated his cheeks.

"Will that really fix a nose bleed?" Stuart whispered softly to Leonard as Leonard tended to his arm.

"Nah," Leonard said, speaking underneath the raucous song of the robot toy. "But it will get him to shut-up."

Stuart nodded. "You really are a miracle worker."

* * *

After Leonard's makeshift emergency room closed for business and his patients spent a sufficient amount of time proverbially licking their wounds, the guys came to a tacit, but unanimous, agreement to pass the time doing what they did best: hiding out and reading comic books. They arguably did a couple other things just as well, but it was if their entire recreational lives had been leading to this moment: Escapism in its purist form. The guys geeked out completely, merrily jumping from one diversion to the next: battling Batman trivia, playing with whatever battery-operated toys had survived the destruction and doing dramatic readings of graphic novels. In between their rather frantic diversion, they took turns offering to look up stuff at the Batman wiki, prank call Raj, and Howard, and vacuum up shards of glass. They seemed to be having difficulty remembering what it meant to be without electricity.

They went on that way for a couple hours, and likely would have continued until they withered away from fantasy-induced malnutrition, until another tremor woke them from their collective delusion. The already compromised building shook again for a couple seconds, and a larger chunk of concrete fell from the ceiling, pouring even more light into their comic book cave.

Except for a passing bit of profanity from Leonard, they didn't say anything for a moment. The tremor seemed to remind them that the world was still going on outside, and it was a scary place.

"What's that smell?" Stuart asked. Sheldon took a whiff.

"It smells like gas," he said.

"Then we gotta get out of here," Leonard said and stood, trying to help Stuart to his feet.

"Oh no. Another exit into the madness outside," Sheldon groaned. "Promise me there won't be any vomit this time, Leonard."

He looked at Sheldon over his shoulder. "I can't promise you that."

"Well, we can't go on another wild goose chase like earlier," Sheldon said.

"And we can't stay here," Stuart said.

"Then where can we go?" Leonard muttered, pensive.

Leonard and Sheldon silently wracked their brains, running out of ideas and falling deeper and deeper into despair. Stuart interrupted the doomed think tank with a question.

"Didn't you guys drive here?"


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Leonard's late-model Prius had waited outside for them like an oasis in the desert. Sure, the vehicle's aesthetics had been compromised when a large lamppost fell on top of it, and it appeared that somehow the rear, driver's side tire had been punctured. Additionally, there was no explanation for the splash of red paint on the hood of the car with "I hate bananas" scribbled into it. Even so, the three men were sitting in comfortable chairs—in the air conditioning—and were listening to NPR. When compared with their previous hideout, it felt like they had died and gone to Heaven. They even found a still-wrapped Twinkie in the back seat, which Sheldon meticulously divided among them.

"This was a genius idea," Leonard said with a toothy smile.

"Well, we are geniuses," Sheldon said, "that is, if you want to use that word loosely. If you don't, I still am."

"Um, guys," Stuart said, speaking up. "I came up with the idea."

Neither one acknowledged the comment, and Leonard was rifling through the glove compartment looking for some hand sanitizer when he made a discovery. "Look! I found a bag of Skittles!" he cheered. He anxiously opened the bag then froze. "Want some?"

Sheldon snatched the bag from his hand.

"I'll make sure all the Skittles are distributed equally, and in units of five, according to quantity and color: yellow, green, red, purple, and orange. Considering Stuart's diminished condition and heightened metabolic state, any odd Skittles will be appropriated to him. Hand me a napkin." As Leonard dejectedly grabbed napkins from the glove compartment, there was a knock on the window. He turned around to find a young man standing there, college age, with an easy smile. Leonard rolled the window down.

"Hi," the young man said. "I'm a volunteer with the city. There's a school four blocks over that has become a men's shelter. Thought you guys might want to know."

"Thanks," Leonard said.

"No prob," the guy said, and kept walking. Leonard almost let the man go, and then stuck his head out of the window, calling after him. The young guy turned around and came back.

"Um," Leonard began, "we really just want to get back to our apartment. Do you have any idea when these roads are going to open back up?"

"Could be another 48 hours," the guy said. "You're better off walking it. But there's no telling if your building's even still safe to enter. Where do you live?"

"On 2311 Los Robles," Stuart answered. Leonard and Sheldon looked at him like he was a creep. "I've written it on enough invoices, guys."

"I heard that area got hit kind of hard," the volunteer explained. "But you still might want to chance it. Whatever you decide to do, do it before nightfall; that's when people start getting crazy." He waved with two fingers and walked off.

As Sheldon handed out napkins full of Skittles, Leonard contemplated their next course of action.

"We better turn the car off," he said. "We may need this gas later."

"I'm hungry," Sheldon said, staring forlornly at the Skittles on his lap. "Ravenous in fact."

"I guess you are," Leonard said. "You didn't eat those hotdogs. Come to think of it. I'm hungry too." He sighed. "I hate to say it, but we might have to go and check out the shelter."

They exchanged looks and then all began to get out of the car. Leonard set off, and Sheldon and Stewart followed behind him walking towards where they heard the shelter might be. With any luck, the shelter might even have some food.

As they approached South Pasadena Elementary School, even from a block away, the bustle of men milling about outside indicated they were at the right place. Leonard, Sheldon and Stuart joined the line of persons entering the doors of the gymnasium. Once inside, there were a handful of desks by the door where volunteers and police officers were registering names and checking IDs. There were cots lined up against the far wall in three sloppy rows, and in front of those, to the left, was a station where officials were handing out lukewarm, bottled waters and packs of saltine crackers. In the expanse of the open floor, people were beginning to carve out for themselves little places to squat, clinging fiercely to book bags serving as pillows, hoodies doubling as blankets, and plastic shopping bags filled with whatever possessions they had wandered in with. A swell of cheers went up in one corner from a group of men passing the time playing cards. Leonard saw a line in front of the far right wall that disappeared behind a door.

He tapped a man, who was holding up the wall and wearing a wife-beater with cargo shorts, on his broad shoulder; he looked like he'd been there a while.

"What're they waiting for?" he asked, tipping his head in the direction of the line.

"A shower operated by a foot pump. It's not really about getting clean—more about cooling down. You feel me?"

Leonard nodded. "Yeah, I do. Um, thank you, sir," he said, and turned back to his weary band of travelers. "What do you think?" he asked.

"I don't like it here," Sheldon said plainly.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Why not? Because it is populated by foul odors, unbathed persons, and an unsettling lack of decorum. One man walked out from that room," Sheldon said, pointing to what Leonard had thought was a closet, "with only a pair of threadbare briefs on, and, don't look now, but the man in the LA Lakers cap to the left has excessive affection for the F-word."

Leonard wasn't quite ready to throw in the towel—he was really tired of walking, and maybe a little afraid to go back to the apartment. There was comfort is not knowing for sure if he'd have to rebuild his life and belongings. "We could just stay here one night," he said, "then walk back home tomorrow. All of our important stuff is locked up in the car, so it's not like thieves could steal anything. Besides," he said with a wide gesture, "there are cops around."

"I'm sorry," Sheldon said, more resolute than before. "But this is an absolutely unsuitable lodging facility. The amenities are sorely deficient."

"It's not a Howard Johnson," Leonard said. "It's an emergency men's shelter. What were you expecting?"

"Well, certainly not this lunacy." He pointed to a gentleman seated on the floor nearby. "That man was certainly homeless even before the earthquake. I've suffered too much today to willfully subject myself to more discomfort."

"Good thing you aren't wounded with, say, an injured arm," Stuart quipped.

"Why compound my discomfort with fantasies of even worse misfortune?" Sheldon said, shaking his head. "When will this day be over?"

"At twelve o'clock midnight," came a female voice from behind him. He turned around. "Unless, of course, you're referring to literal _daylight_, in which case the sun will set today at 7:23 pm."

"What are you doing here in a men's shelter?" Leonard asked, baffled by the presence of this peculiar woman.

"I am recruiting volunteers to accompany me to the Red Cross."

"The Red Cross?" Leonard said with visible relief. "That sounds awesome right about now. I'm sure they run a better shelter than this one."

"It's not a shelter," Amy said, "It's a supply station. The organization has been asking for able-bodied persons to help hand out bottled waters, protein bars, and blankets. I would implore you to consider answering the call."

"As attractive as it would be to be so near a cache of basic supplies," Sheldon replied, "your volunteer requirement of being 'able-bodied' precludes us from joining you."

Amy gave him a thorough visual inspection from head to toe. "You seem to be as fit as a fiddle in my estimation, though your posture could stand to use some work."

"I'm not referring to myself. I'm referring to Stuart."

"Who's Stuart?" she asked. The man in question took a few steps forward.

"I'm Stuart," he said. "My elbow got pulled out of its socket after a counter fell on it. Hurts like hell."

Amy nodded. "Please know, Stuart, that you have my sincere condolences." She returned to Sheldon. "However, I fail to see how _his_ injury precludes _you_ from being a volunteer."

Leonard gave this new woman an odd look. "Well, we can't leave him here by himself," he said.

"Actually," Stuart said. "I can stay here. Believe it or not, this is an upgrade from my normal circumstances. There's food, a cot… company."

A man next to them pulled down his pants and urinated into a potted plant.

"That… that is new," Stuart said.

"I wouldn't feel comfortable leaving you here by yourself," Leonard said.

"I'm not by myself. I'm surrounded by people. Besides, we've all dreamed of the day we could be heroes. As our city stands in ruins, maybe this'll be your chance to avert an apocalypse."

"Excellent reasoning," Sheldon said, taking a step forward. "Amy, we will join you."

"Hold on just a minute, Sheldon," Leonard said. "I'm still not totally comfortable with the idea of leaving Stuart behind."

There was a moment of collective silence.

"I'd like to make a proposal," Sheldon announced.

All eyes turned to him.

"Shoot," Leonard said.

"We leave Stuart here on the condition that if the environment here becomes unendurable, he can return to your vehicle."

"But it's locked," Leonard said.

"Allow me to finish. He can use my key." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a key fob, and removed the key from the ring, placing it in the palm of his hand.

Leonard nodded while reflecting on this idea. "That's not a bad idea."

"Of course it isn't," Sheldon said. "I don't have bad ideas, Leonard." He then extended his hand to Stuart. "It's never been used. It should serve you well."

Stuart took the key in hand. "Thank you, Sheldon."

Amy clapped her hands together. "So with that matter cleared up, shall we be leaving, gentlemen?"

They all exchanged nods, and Amy headed for the doors, the boys following her.

"What's your name again?" Leonard asked.

"How can you ask for her name _again_ when she never even gave it to us to begin with," Sheldon said annoyed. He crouched near to Amy's ear. "I'm sorry. My friend speaks without any attention to accuracy or precision."

"I've noticed," she replied.

"What is your name?" Sheldon asked.

"My given name is Amy Farrah Fowler, but you may simply call me Amy."

"Very well then, Amy, I'm Sheldon."

"I know."

"How?"

"The smaller of your two companions, whom you have repeatedly referred to as Leonard, has called _you_ Sheldon several times."

"Fine observation," Sheldon said. He seemed to have a realization. "I like you, Amy."

"I like you, too, Sheldon," she said, matter-of-factly.

Leonard shook his head and sighed. Just what everyone needs in a disaster: _two_ Sheldons.

* * *

Leonard and Sheldon were several paces behind Amy and following her blindly as she navigated through broken sidewalks and scattered wreckage; their trip, however, was starting to run long. Sheldon surveyed their increasingly less familiar surroundings and started to have doubts about the route they were taking.

"I don't think this is the right way," he said.

"Sure it is," Amy countered, thoroughly confident.

"No, actually it isn't," Leonard said. He pointed over his shoulder and to the left. "The Red Cross is over that way."

"I'm not going to the Red Cross," she said. "I'm going to retrieve my monkey."

"_Monkey?_" Leonard said.

"Yes, Franklin. He is one of my dearest friends."

In a day of truly shocking occurrences, the statement still managed to be the most disturbing thing Leonard had heard yet. He leaned over to Sheldon.

"We have to let this girl go. I've seen this movie before: she's going to befriend us, drug us, then harvest our organs while we sleep."

"Wait. Let's hear her out," Sheldon replied, surprisingly unperturbed. He craned his neck forward. "Excuse me, Amy?"

"Yes?" she replied, without breaking her pace.

"When you say 'monkey' are you talking about the playful primate or a human who does menial tasks with their hands, like a mechanic or engineer?"

"Well, _technically_ humans are primates as well, but for the sake of this discussion, I am referring to a primate of the _non_-human variety."

Leonard stopped in his tracks and held out his arm, stopping Sheldon as well.

"Where in the _hell_ would you get a monkey from?" Leonard asked. Amy turned around.

"I am a neurobiologist and I work in a primatology lab as a part of my research on the human brain. I'm not ashamed to say that Franklin is my favorite among the test specimens. I broke him out of his cell after the earthquake hit."

Leonard had heard enough. This _girl_ had to go. "That is _absolutely_—"

"Fascinating and infinitely amusing," Sheldon said.

Amy and Leonard looked at each other and back at Sheldon. "It is?" they said in unison.

"Yes. I love a person who has a tender spot for the higher-functioning, _non-human_ animals. I am partial to koalas myself. Koalas and cats."

Amy smiled and nodded eagerly. "I share your attachment to domesticated felines and tree-dwelling marsupials. Koalas are exceedingly adorable, and cats, well, need I even list the myriad of ways in which they are simply magnificent."

"Indeed you do not," Sheldon said. He walked past Leonard, catching up with his new friend. "So Amy," he said, "tell me more about this _Franklin_."

Leonard watched motionless as they walked away. For a moment, he seriously considered just digging a hole, lying down in it and burying himself alive. Until he remembered that he didn't have a shovel. And he was hungry.

"Wait for me!" he called and ran to catch up.

* * *

After retrieving Franklin from where he napped, tethered to a bike rack outside of a compromised Whole Foods, they set off for their original destination. A half hour later, the motley crew of scientists and their monkey companion showed up at the Red Cross.

Slowly emerging as the chief of this weary band of wanderers, Leonard made a perfunctory search of his surroundings: the building was a single story and well built (it had suffered no discernible damage), employees were clearly marked in red apron-like uniforms, if the boxes stacked inside wired caging was any indication, supplies were bountiful, and the operation had a general feel that inspired confidence and hope. He made the unilateral decision that they would stay. With no objections, they drew closer to the building, winding through the idling throngs, and went inside.

Upon entering, they discovered that the crowd was largely split into four lines, and one line was much longer than the others. Leonard immediately joined the end of that one.

"Why is this line so long," Sheldon asked, "and, more importantly, why are we getting in it?"

"Because it's the closest one," Leonard answered with a shrug. "It doesn't matter. They all lead to the same place."

Amy, however, had her doubts. "Is it your goal to volunteer?" she asked.

"Um, yeah?" Leonard answered. "Why else would I have come?"

"Hm," Amy replied. "Then I suspect you have other motives for your counter-intuitive line selection. As a neurobiologist, I've had a good bit of training in human behavior and, based on what I know about pupil dilation, breathing patterns, and body orientation, if you are not flat out lying, you appear to be engaging in a bit of deceit."

"Astute observation, Amy Farrah Fowler," Sheldon said, endlessly amused. "Leonard is quite the fibber. I've often been on the wrong end of one of his prevarications. His biggest whoppers tend to be about the origin of his experimental research and, of course, coitus."

"I'm not lying, or fibbing, or whatever you want to call it," Leonard said.

Sheldon nodded his head with a knowing look and crouched next to Amy's ear. "It's the research."

"How could I even do research out here?" Leonard asked, baffled by the accusation. "What? You think one of these hobos is going to steal my particle accelerator in my back pocket?"

"He makes a valid defense, Sheldon," Amy agreed. "I think coitus is the more plausible explanation."

Leonard sighed. "I know you guys may be a little inexperienced when it comes to dating—"

"How would you know if I'm inexperienced or not?" Amy asked. "We've barely met."

"Call it a hunch," Leonard said. "Regardless, do I look like I'm having sex to you?"

"Well, sex, no," Amy began. "However, mating and copulation are a highly evolved process that begins the moment two prospective sexual partners first lock eyes. Franklin here—if he were still in the wild and not castrated—would approach females with a show of male aggression to both stake his claim on her among other male suitors and to demonstrate his virility as a sexual partner. Humans behave in much the same way. Such pageantry is just the first step in what ultimately leads to consummation. We can call it 'eye-coitus' if you will."

"Eye-coitus?" Leonard repeatedly, rather horrified with this term. "That sounds disgusting, honestly."

"Most aspects of reproduction do," Amy said. She lifted her eyebrows repeatedly. "Has anyone here caught your fancy?"

Leonard squirmed a little before answering. "No," he said in a way that sounded like a howling 'yes.' "No, of course not."

Amy observed his response. "Heighten breathing, further pupil dilation, sweaty palms." She turned to Sheldon. "We have a real Pinocchio on our hands."

Sheldon nodded in agreement. "Just tell the truth, Leonard," he pleaded. "If you hold out any longer your nose might start growing."

"Fine," Leonard relented. "There's a rather attractive blonde woman at the front of this line." Amy and Sheldon exchanged looks. "Come on, guys, I'm not the only one who noticed, or this line wouldn't be almost to the door."

Sheldon rolled his eyes dramatically, severely annoyed. "Is there ever a time that your libido is not fully engaged?" he asked.

"God, Sheldon. I don't want to have _sex_ with her. I just would love to have a little verbal discourse with a beautiful woman who might brighten up this dreary day a little." Then he looked at Amy. "No offense. I mean, you _are_ a beautiful woman as well, I'm just saying—" She cut him off.

"No offense taken. I just caught a glimpse of her myself," she said, rocking forward on the ball of her feet. "She is quite a looker."

* * *

Meanwhile, Raj and Howard, who had yet to find water, wandered into the Red Cross center and were just entering the door. As usual, they were bickering.

"All I ask is that you check to see if there is a tick stuck on my back," Raj whined, "and yet you can't even do me that one tiny, little favor."

"I'm not checking anything," Howard insisted. "That 'tick' is entirely too close to the 'red zone' for me to come anywhere near it."

"The 'red zone?'" Raj asked.

"Yes, the 'red zone,'" Howard repeated. "Too close to your, you know, _tuchus_."

"It's funny how you are suddenly so consumed with staying out of the 'red zone' now, but you sure didn't have any problem bringing me into it last night when you wanted me to confirm whether one of your pubic hairs had turned gray or not."

"It was much higher up than your 'tick' and, besides, I had a towel over all of my kibble and bits, okay? No heterosexuals were injured during the course of testing."

"Speak for yourself. Now I have one more things to obsess over when I get manscaped."

"Man— manscaped?" Howard stammered in horror. "How could you possib—," but he was distracted when he suddenly noticed a line that was much longer than the rest. "Why are there so many people in this line?" he asked.

Raj scanned the room. "There could only be two good reasons: it has better food or there's a beautiful woman at the head of it. Either way, I'm in."

"It better be a hot piece of female beauty. We just ate all that food earlier," Howard said.

"Yeah, curry, butter chicken, Palak Paneer, naan… ugh," Raj said with a shiver. "It was sheer torture."

"Come on, it must have been nice to be eating something familiar in a time of so much uncertainty."

"Right, because in the midst of a food shortage, I want to think of a place with a billion people."

"Fine, let's just… get in line," Howard said, queuing up at the back. Raj joined him.

* * *

Meanwhile, a certain blonde waitress was regretting that she had signed up for this gig.

"Look we have turkey and we have ham," she barked at the guy a few people ahead of them in line. "You either take one or keep it moving." She rolled her eyes as the man walked away. "You would think that with the world falling down around you, you'd have a little more appreciation for, say, _CHOICES_!"

"Actually, I thought this was the line to register as a volunteer," the following guy in line replied. He looked about 18 and Penny figured that should be old enough to read.

"Um, really?" Penny said. "So the 'SANDWICHES' sign above my head in all caps didn't tip you off?"

"Um, no, but, um… I was thinking maybe we could…" The partial statement was followed by silence, and the dumbstruck teen just kept staring like a badly-dressed, baby deer in headlights. Penny suddenly realized what was happening.

_Oh crap._

"If this is gonna deteriorate into some lame, sputtering, pickup line, I really can't be bothered," she said.

The boys shoulders dropped, dejected.

Penny sighed. "I mean, you seem cute with your dimples and all, but…"

"Really?" the guy said, perking up.

"NEXT!" Penny called. The guy slunk away.

* * *

"Only one person separates me from a sandwich," Sheldon said. "How disappointed I will be if they haven't been prepared properly."

"They haven't been prepared properly," Leonard said flatly.

"How would you know that?" Sheldon said.

He looked at Sheldon, then back ahead. "Call it a hunch."

One more person was plucked from the front, and then Leonard advanced up to the yellow line.

"Yeah," Leonard began, "we were wondering how we could register as volunteers." As soon as the words crossed his lips, Leonard noticed the fiery hatred that swelled in the eyes of the girl in front of him. He glanced up above his head in the nick of time. "_Or_ we could use some sandwiches."

There was something in his demeanor that softened her. "Do you really want sandwiches or are you just saying that to keep me from strangling you?"

Leonard found the comment surprising, and maybe smiled a little. "This is a center for helping people in need. I thought I might be able to pitch in with the effort, but food is good, too."

"Yeah, well, I thought coming here was going to give me good karma," the girl retorted, "but it's been hell so far."

"Um, excuse me..." Sheldon elbowed his way past Leonard. "Excuse me, but before I partake of whatever you may be offering, I just have a few questions about the preparation standards employed by this facility. Firstly, have the sandwiches been stored at a steady temperature of no more than 55 degrees Fahrenheit? Secondly, were the persons who prepared the sandwiches wearing gloves? And last, but certainly not least, do you have any spicy mustard available? I simply can't trust mayonnaise under these conditions."

Penny stared at him blankly for several seconds. "What?" she said, with a slow blink.

Leonard answered her question. "My friend is bonkers and the quicker you accept that fact, the less painful this experience will be for all involved."

"I hardly think he's bonkers," Amy said, speaking for the first time in minutes. "In our brief acquaintance, I've managed to discern that, even though Sheldon may be the French fry in a box of crayons, he's far from intellectually impaired. In fact, I've been rather dazzled with his mental acuity."

"Thank you, Amy," Sheldon said with a nod. "The crayon comment aside, I appreciate your advocacy, as you've proven to be no slouch in the intellectual department yourself. It's refreshing to pass this difficult time with a fellow scientist."

"Hello," Leonard said, waving his hand. "I'm right here, guys."

Sheldon turned to him. "Of course," he said, chastised. "I meant to say a _real_ scientist."

"Um," Penny began; she was looking suspiciously at Franklin. "You can't have that monkey in here."

"Why not?" Amy asked.

Penny pointed to a sign on the wall. It read, "No pets allowed."

"But Franklin is not a pet," Amy said. "He's never once lived in a domestic setting; he is a trained professional who's spent his entire life in public service. Additionally, he is one of my dearest companions."

"Well he has to go outside," Penny said.

"Very well then," Amy said, resigning herself to the task before her. "I've come with the purpose of joining the efforts at rescuing the City of Angles from its turmoil, and I remain committed to that mission." She turned to Franklin. "We're going to take a trip outside. Be brave."

Sheldon shook his head. "I swear, there are people all around us that don't have a tenth of the decorum that rhesus monkey does. It's a true shame he must go, if I do say so."

"Yeah," Leonard said, a broad smile coming across his face as he fidgeted with his fingers. "I have to say I was resistant at first, but even I'm warming to the little guy."

Penny grabbed the reins of the conversation.

"Turkey or ham?"

"Well that depends," Sheldon replied.

"On what?" she replied.

"On the answers to my previous questions. Considering the antibacterial properties of the isothiocyanates found in mustard—coupled with my substantial hunger—I'd even be willing to wave the gloves requirement if I was assured that the food preparers washed their hands prior to assembling the sandwiches and that spicy mustard is indeed available."

"NEXT!" Penny called out. The next patron advanced up to the yellow line.

"Wait, wait, wait," Leonard said. "We want three sandwiches and, if you could, point us in the direction of Registration."

Penny reached down in a cooler, pulled out three sandwiches and then pointed to the next line over. Only four people were lined up there.

"Thank you," Leonard said nodding, and walked off. He handed Sheldon a sandwich.

"I may not be an expert," Sheldon said, "but I think the chances of you engaging in coitus with that girl are slim."

"Shut up," Leonard said, and they walked to the other line.

* * *

Beverly Hofstadter was reclining in her office chair, the lights were turned down low and her manicured fingers were pinching the bridge of her noise. She had spent the last several hours making a series of phone calls that escalated in access, starting with a call to the local police station and ending here.

"All I am simply asking," Beverly said, the timbre of her voice exuding its typical blend of monotone, stoicism and (as always) condescension, "is that, during one of his program's annoying and endless commercial breaks for—I don't know—tampons or acne cream, Anderson take a moment to see if anyone has heard from a Leonard Hofstadter." Long pause. "Yes," she continued into the phone, "I fully understand that _the_ Anderson Cooper is currently in Los Angeles in the middle of a live broadcast, but I'll have you recall that after The Great Vanderbilt Meltdown of 2004, who was it that sat in the Holland Tunnel for three hours just to give that family a bit of group therapy?... No, it was _not_ Dr. Phil. It was me, Dr. Beverly Hofstadter… What do you mean I monetarily capitalized on the consultation?...There was nothing in that book I wrote that wasn't unquestionably true. Otherwise you would have taken legal action against me… Well it's not my fault that Anderson was too conflicted about his sexuality to have come out of the closet earlier… Well then you tell Gloria that she can kiss my Calvin Klein-clad, New Jersey ass… Hello? Hello? Hello?"

The dial tone, however, was the phone's only response.

"I swear if this profession didn't pay so well, I would abandon it outright. Humans can be so petty." She rose from her chair, the leaned forward against her desk, dropping her head. "Oh Leonard," she sighed. "I swear, you will do anything for your mommy's attention, even it means recklessly endangering yourself in an earthquake."

She kicked the chair she had been sitting in away from herself, and was making her way to the drink cart situated by the closet doors for another round of liquid courage, when she passed a school picture of Leonard sitting on the dresser. It had sat in that very spot for years, probably since the picture of the twelve-year-old boy was first taken, and was the cover photo for her book "Bedwetters and Other Problematic Offspring." However, it was the first time she'd really looked at it since. She brushed a single finger along the dusty face of the glass, Leonard's braces suddenly visible in the dim light.

"My boy," she whispered softly, and then, hands trembling, reached for a flask of Scotch.

* * *

**END NOTE:** Thanks for kind comments. If I haven't already, I'd love to hear from you.


	5. Chapter 5

After registering with the Red Cross and making themselves available for helping with the greatest challenge that had beset Los Angeles in a lifetime, Sheldon, Leonard and Amy buckled down for the arduous task set before them: waiting.

Turns out that, at this particular Red Cross, volunteers were plentiful and patrons were few, as a combination of poor communication in the community at large, emergent priority to the injured and deceased, and the fact that many people had not yet run out of food meant that the demand for things like granola bars and Gatorade was low. Even so, there were easily forty or more people loitering about the property and scattered on the lawn: a mix of employees, persons in need, and wanderers with no particular business there at all. As the minutes ticked away, Leonard felt his life passing by without him. He'd parked himself outside, finding a spot not too far from the entrance, with his back against building's front wall. The Red Cross was using the limited power from their generators sparingly, and air conditioning didn't seem to be a priority. Even in the sunlight, being outside was merciful compared to the oven inside.

Leonard was anxious. He was hot. He was bored. He was helpless. And sometimes, when he'd see some teen with his kid brother in hand, walk up asking for food, he'd even admit to himself that he was scared. He privately longed for the time when he had kept his mind occupied by fantasizing about the beautiful, unknown woman at the end of the sandwich line. He extracted his cell phone from the pocket in his hoodie that rested on his lap, and he looked at the time: It was 5:03. That couldn't be right, he thought. Had only two hours gone by? His knees started to ache from squatting, and he rose to a standing position, sliding up with his back scraping against the white, painted, brick wall of the edifice. He privately bemoaned the fact that for the first time since he'd learned to read (at age two) he had nothing to do. How the hell was he going to make it through the night with no Internet?

He looked over at Amy and Sheldon, who were standing nearby, and managed to decipher that they were talki— actually, what the hell were they talking about?

"In a world where all vowels have been banned, who is the reigning political party of the United States?"

"The American Dental Association," Sheldon answered.

"Explain."

"The lack of vowels means that words are composed solely of consonants, causing increased erosion on tooth enamel. Citizens make more frequent visits to the dentist, and the dental industry implodes under the strain. With dental costs soaring in an industry unable to meet the demands, the American Dental Association becomes a key player in both parties, eventually becoming a party in its own right. Its presidential candidate triumphs in a landslide victory, and the party takes both houses of Congress."

"Well done, Sheldon," Amy said, smiling brightly.

Leonard looked at both of them, taking a few halting steps nearer. "Mind telling me what y'all are playing?"

"Oh," Amy said, noticing him. She explained with great enthusiasm. "A game in which Sheldon and I propose an alternate world that differs from ours in one key aspect, and then pose questions to each other."

"Ahhh," Leonard said with dawning realization. "Kind of like a counterfactual?"

Sheldon scrunched up his face as Amy pressed he lips together, slowly rocking her head from side to side; neither was impressed with the suggestion.

"Actually," she said, "we were thinking about something more along the lines of anti-truths."

Sheldon nodded enthusiastically. "I agree. 'Anti-truths' is a name that is more to the point and is grammatically sound, to boot." He shook his head. "There's no such thing as a 'factual,' Leonard.'

Amy nodded. "Indeed there isn't. Well, on that note, I better go check on Franklin. Besides, I have a knock-knock joke I think he would enjoy."

Leonard looked at her sideways. "Franklin understands jokes?" he asked.

"No," Amy said with a bashful chuckle. "He doesn't understand English, and thus the humor would be lost on him. But I like to preface checking on my animals that way; I always get a rise out of someone."

Sheldon nodded with amused understanding. "I am helpless before your whimsy." Then, he laughed, drawing up his body and letting out a breathy chuckle—if such an action could even be called a laugh at all. Amy abruptly left. Leonard stumbled off, resumed his position by the wall, and sat down, hoping he'd all asleep.

Just a moment later, however, the blonde girl from the sandwich line scurried past, just after exiting the main door. She slowed a second—seeming to have a realization—then pulled out her cellphone, glancing at it. "God, I have to go," she muttered to herself.

"Where're you off to?" Leonard asked, curiosity getting the better of him. Penny looked around, then down, to see who was speaking to her.

"Oh, it's you," she said.

"Leonard," he clarified.

"Yeah. Okay. Leonard." She sighed hard, and pulled her purse higher onto her shoulder. "It's just that my boyfriend's probably back at our apartment waiting for me. I haven't talked to him all day. He should be home from his Saturday morning trip to the gym by now. Hours ago, really."

He nodded. Saturday Morning Gym Guy sounded like he was... well, a handsome fellow. "That is, if your apartment is even still there," Leonard said. The statement seemed to rattle her, and Leonard regretted saying it. "I'm sure it's still there. I just meant, you know, everything's so, you know...crazy." He wanted to kick himself.

"Christ," she said with sigh, and turned her face away. She closed her eyes, lost in thought for a moment. Deep thought. Distressing thought. When she opened her eyes, she saw Leonard staring her. "I...gotta go."

"Let me walk you home," Leonard blurted suddenly.

She didn't say anything at first, and he sat on pins and needles waiting for her to respond. He stood up, brushing mulch off of himself. "Really, I-I wouldn't mind."

More silence and, finally, she smiled faintly and shook her head, her hair spilling into her eyes a little. "No, I can't do that. You have your own crap to deal with."

"No, I insist," Leonard said. "By the time you leave here and actually walk to your apartment, it'll be getting dark, and the thought of you outside on a night like this, frankly, scares me a little."

The girl replied with a wrinkled smile. "That's very kind of you, but I can't accept."

"Why not?" Leonard said. "It's simple. You walk to your house. We walk with you."

"We?" she asked, suddenly realizing that Leonard didn't plan to accompany her alone. She instinctively glanced over at Sheldon, who was preoccupied by the cuticle of his left pinky finger. "And by 'we' you mean Sandwich Guy and Monkey Girl?"

"If you're referring to the lost members of the Justice League, yes," he explained, a wry smile inching around the corners of his mouth. He even took a bold step forward. "I mean, they do have some cool superpowers. Sandwich Guy can talk non-stop even if no one is listening, which really comes in handy when telemarketers call the house, and Monkey Girl has a talent for leaping across conversation topics in a single bound, usually to something about human sexuality or, of course, monkeys." Penny giggled. "It's a harmless superpower, but the monkey likes it."

Penny seemed to be warming to the idea. "And who are you in the Justice League?"

"Superman, of course," he answered with a shrug of one shoulder.

She laughed heartily at that. A bit too heartily.

"It wasn't that funny," he said, knowing full well it was.

She reflected a moment. "Okay, how about this? You and your superheroes walk me home, and when I get there, I'll see if I have any treats, like, say a bag of Raisonettes."

Leonard hissed regretfully at the offer. "I'm lactose intolerant." He'd prefer a kiss.

"Well, maybe some popcorn, then."

Good enough. "Sounds like a deal," he said, and held out his hand. She looked at it second, then shook it enthusiastically.

"Great," she said, now full on smiling. "And what's you name again?" she asked.

"Leonard," he answered. "Leonard Hofstadter. And you?"

She pulled her purse onto her arm, and she paused a beat before answering. "Just call me Penny," she said.

Leonard smiled and nodded. "I can do that, Penny." He looked at his roommate, calling out to him. "Sheldon, we're heading out."

Sheldon looked up from his cuticle-ectomy. "Heading out where?"

"We're walking this young lady home," he said, and took a look around. "Where's Amy?"

"She went to collect, Franklin. Remember? You were there."

"Right, right," Leonard said dismissively. "Go and get her; we can't keep Penny waiting."

Sheldon, shockingly, obeyed and walked off, leaving Penny and Leonard alone to just...stare at each other, apparently.

"So, this, um, boyfriend," Leonard stammered, taking a shot at conversation. "You said you live together?"

"Yeah, for six months," she said, nodding. "Not too long after I first moved out here from Nebraska. I was liv—" She had begun to explain the situation when there was a loud, blood-curdling scream that sounded like it came from just around the side of the building. Leonard, Penny and a crowd of other people all raced over to see what was going on. From where he was standing, Leonard saw that among the throngs were a Jewish engineer with mommy issues and an Indian astrophysicist with selective mutism. He walked towards them and called their names. They turned around.

"Leonard!" Raj said. "What brings you here?"

"Um," Leonard said, "an earthquake?"

"Yeah, us too," he said, nodding with no sense of irony.

"What's going on here?" Leonard asked, still trying to get a glimpse of whatever was going on towards the front of the pack.

"I don't know," Howard said, "but some chick came over here looking for some guy named Franklin. I'm guessing she found him."

Amy.

Leonard listened again and recognized the ranting voice as belonging to the recently christened "Monkey Girl." Immediately he took off, making his way through the crowd and, to Leonard's joy and amazement, Penny followed him.

"Um, excuse me, pardon me," he said, winding through the horde and careful not to step on any toes. When he finally made it to the Amy, he saw her standing there in hysterics, with Sheldon standing right behind her.

"What do you mean you SOLD MY MONKEY?!" She was screaming at the top of her lungs.

"Easy," said the man sitting in front of her, not even bothered enough to stop playing whatever game was on his cell phone. "A man walked up, asked me, 'How much for the monkey?' I answered 50 bucks, and an exchange was made. It's not rocket science lady."

"FIFTY BUCKS!" Amy yelled. "That animal was worth $3,500."

"Yeah, but let's be realistic. I could never fetch that kind of money on the street. I had to get what I could get."

"BUT IT WASN'T YOUR MONKEY!" she yelled.

"Look, lady, what was I supposed to do? Somebody wants a monkey, there's a monkey sitting right in front of me. Really, it was a no-brainer."

Amy was so upset she was trembling. Sheldon stepped up, leading with his outstretched finger.

"Sir, your line of reasoning is flawed in every sense. Not only have you committed an act of grand theft and unrepentant malfeasance, but you have also distinguished yourself as one the most slow-witted people I have ever encountered, and trust me, your competition is stiff. The person you sold Franklin to would have gotten a better quality monkey if you had sold him yourself instead."

The man—finally distracted enough to peel his eyes from his cell phone screen—suddenly rose from the crate he was sitting on and approached Sheldon. "What did you call me?" he asked menacingly.

Sheldon's shoulder's drooped and he shook his head, annoyed. "I didn't 'call you' anything. I said that the person you sold Franklin to would—"

"You better be able to back those words up," the man growled.

"Oh, absolutely," Sheldon said. "First of all, in a perfect display of imbecilic logic—"

Leonard suddenly had a vision of Sheldon on the asphalt with a chalk line being drawn around him. He stepped forward.

"What he means to say," he said, stepping in between the dueling men, "is that this was all one big misunderstanding but that, if you would help him identify who you sold the animal to, then this whole thing might be resolved."

Sheldon looked at Leonard with total confusion. "I didn't mean to say that at all. Now, if I may be permitted to finish—" But the man was not interested in allowing him to finish at all, and instead, grabbed the front of Sheldon's shirt, cuffing him up.

Leonard was frantically thinking of his next plan of action when he heard a voice from the crowd.

"You put him down!" Penny said, drawing closer to the man.

The man turned to her with a smirk. "What's it to you, lady? Don't tell me this insect is your boyfriend?"

"Of course not," Penny said, disgusted by the thought. "But that doesn't mean I can sit back and watch injustice."

"Injustice?" the man said, and Sheldon writhed against his unwavering grip. "Are you kidding me?"

"Are you kidding me?" she shot back. "You already know you're wrong. You can't just up and sell somebody else's monkey."

The man looked at Sheldon one more time, then at Penny, and released him. Coughing, Sheldon rubbed his red, chaffed throat. Amy rushed to him, checking if he was injured. Meanwhile, the monkey seller stepped closer to Penny. Leonard instinctively took a step forward. Noticing the move, the monkey seller transferred his ire to Leonard.

"And just what do you think you're going to do, pipsqueak?"

Leonard stuck his chest out with patent resolve. "Take my beating like a man," he answered.

"Nobody's going to beat anybody," Penny said, brushing past Leonard. "My real boyfriend is six-foot-five and is 256 pounds of pure muscle. And if you think I'm joking, I dare you to touch any of us."

The confession seemed to tame the man instantly. "Look, babe," he said with a dry chuckle, "I'm not looking for any trouble." He took a couple steps back. "I just—"

"SAVE IT!" she yelled, and got up close to his face. "Now, where is our monkey?"

* * *

A minute later, Penny and Leonard, who were followed by Amy and Sheldon, who were followed by Raj and Howard, were walking down the street. Penny's bra was bearing $50.

"Why did you give her $50?" Sheldon asked Amy.

"She earned it with that flaxen-hair demonstration of feminine wile and feline strength. She was Wonder Woman come to life."

"Wonder Woman has black hair," Sheldon said.

"When you are as majestic a female specimen as Penny is, your hair color doesn't matter."

Raj and Howard were trailing, finally getting around to their sandwiches.

"This sandwich is disappointing," Raj said, in between bites. "I thought they would have at least dressed it with some ketchup."

"Ketchup on ham?" Howard said, recoiling at the thought. "That's tantamount to sandwich assault."

"Really? Aren't hotdogs made of pork? What's the difference?"

"The difference is that in this country we have a very subtle palate when it comes to our great condiments. You can't just play fast and loose with them."

"Really? Name all of these 'great American condiments.'"

"You know," Howard began, "mustard, mayo, ketchup." He struggled to think of another. "Peanut butter."

"So, four," Raj replied condescendingly. "I'll have you know that India boasts over 300 different curry powders alone."

"You made that statistic up," Howard said.

"Doesn't mean it's not true," Raj answered.

Further up ahead, Penny and Leonard were having a lively conversation of their own.

"You were awesome back there," Leonard said. "You really showed that guy who's the boss!"

Penny shrugged. "Thanks. I'm just sorry Amy lost her monkey, no matter how creepy he was."

"Actually, she just might find him again," Leonard said. "The guy gave her a pretty good description of the buyer. Maybe he'll turn up."

Penny was incredulous. "I doubt it. As we speak, I bet some Michael Jackson impersonator—who doesn't know the difference between a rhesus monkey and a chimp—is dressing Franklin up in a little, red leather jacket and teaching it to moonwalk."

Leonard thought on that a moment. "That actually sounds kind of adorable."

Penny nodded and crinkled her nose, grinning. "I know, right?" Then, she contorted her face.

"What is it?" Leonard asked.

"This is going to sound gross, but I really gotta pee," she said. She handed him her purse. "Wait here." She ran off behind a building, and everyone stopped walking.

"Where'd she go?" Howard asked.

"To take care of some personal business."

"Must really suck to be on your period under these circumstances," Raj said, then took another bite of his sandwich.

Leonard groaned. "No one's on their..." He couldn't even say it. "She had to urinate."

"Urinate?" Howard said. "That's what she said?"

"NO, THAT'S NOT WHAT SHE SAID!" Leonard yelled. "God, it's like you guys don't realize that the world is coming to an end."

"Says the guy that 'volunteered' to try and get a date," Raj replied.

"What?" Leonard said.

"Don't play dumb with me," Raj said. "We all know what's going on here."

"And, uh, good luck with her," Howard said with a snort. "You should know that I thoroughly charmed her in line."

"Right," Raj said with a sneer. "You mean when she almost called security on you?"

"She didn't call security. She wanted to take additional safety measures as she dispersed the food," Howard said. "And, really, Lupe?"

"Don't go there!" Raj shot back. "If you ignore her lazy eye, Lupe is one hot tamale."

"Back," Penny said, smiling and visibly relieved. "Haven't had to do that since that time Kurt and I..." she stopped, biting her bottom lip. "Never mind."

Leonard handed back her purse, and the whole group resumed their journey. There was a lull in the conversation, and after a while, Leonard gingerly breeched a topic he'd been wondering about.

"So, um, what you said back there, about your boyfriend being six foot four and weighing over 250 pounds. Is that true?"

Penny nodded. "Yep. He's a bodybuilder. I came for his pecs, then stayed for the sex. That and the free food."

Leonard felt his manhood shrivel. "So, um, you guys pretty serious and everything?"

Penny waited a second before answering, and regarded Leonard with some suspicion. "Yeah, we are. Why?" Leonard didn't say anything. "You don't have a problem with body-builders do you?"

"Oh, absolutely not. No. Never," he said, protesting too much, as was his custom. He decided to throw in a little overcompensation for good measure. "I love bodybuilders. Some of my best friends are body builders. In fact, I would love to be a body builder, actually. If it didn't require exercise. And, you know, lifting weights."

Penny nodded. "Cool. I would love for you to meet him, but… well, he's a little jealous."

"Doesn't he trust you?" he said before he'd realized it.

"Yeah, I guess he does. He just—" She looked down, fiddling with her fingers. "He's just looking out for me, I guess. At least that's what I tell myself."

Leonard nodded. "Of course. I understand completely."

This guy sounded like a jerk.

* * *

A little over an hour later, they had arrived at the apartments as planned. To Leonard's disappointment, and Penny's delight, the building was still standing, though showed some signs of cosmetic damage. Notably, the blue and white awning was torn, and sat several yards from the building.

"Well, guys. Thanks for walking me out here," Penny said as she stood outside her darkened building. They could see the dimly-lit foyer from outside, and the faint sound of a generator could be heard in the distance. Penny gave the group a sad smile, glancing purposefully at each person. "Sheldon, we kind of rocked tonight, didn't we?"

"I imagine we did," he said, "assuming that means we behaved in an extraordinary fashion. If, however, you are somehow alluding to Geology, then I deny everything."

Penny shook her head, tickled in spite of herself, and then turned her attention to Amy. "Thanks for your compliments, Amy, and I hope you find your monkey."

"I hope I do as well," Amy said. "Regardless, it's my hope that you get the beauty sleep tonight that other women find so elusive."

Penny laughed. "Sure thing." Then she looked at Howard, "Howard," she began with a sigh. "Sorry about earlier. I totally misread your comments; I actually thought you were coming on to me." She sighed, a little lovesick. "I think it's so brave and beautiful what you and Raj have."

Howard and Raj looked at each other and then back at Penny, too dumbstruck to even refute the misunderstanding.

"And finally, Leonard," she began, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Thanks for walking me home. You're a true gentlemen."

Unlike the boyfriend you're having tons of hot sex with, Leonard thought to himself.

She leaned forward and gave him a big hug. Her ample bosom was pressed against his chest in a way that made his hair stand on end. Apparently, he held on too long.

"I have to go," she said with a strained voice, gently pulling away.

"Of course, of course," he said backing up. He tossed a quick wave. "Have a great night."

"You too." Penny turned and headed for the entrance, swiped the scanner with her card and, after another little wave, she disappeared behind the doors.

And from Leonard's life forever. A reverent silence landed on the group and, at that moment, Leonard felt—with overwhelming intensity—that their brief acquaintance had been refreshing, majestic, bittersweet, and, ultimately ephemeral. He turned to his friends, wondering if they'd felt the same magic he had.

"She wasn't talking about Geology, was she?" Sheldon asked Amy.

"She was not," Amy said distractedly. She squinted at a man about half a block away. "I'm going to see if that gentleman has seen my monkey," she said, and walked off. With her gone, Raj sprang to life.

"I'M NOT GAY!" he blurted as soon as she was out of earshot.

"Yeah, well, if you weren't so clingy no one would even think that," Howard said.

"Clingy?" Raj said. "Are you out of your mind? You skulk around like your period is coming any minute."

"Right, Raj. So I guess your frantic hand gestures pleading for us to stop so you could buy the latest issue of Cosmo magazine off some girl sitting on the curb had nothing to with it?"

"It was charity. I could tell that girl needed the money!" Raj insisted.

"You need testosterone shots!"

"Like the ones your mom gets?"

"SHUT UP!" Leonard said. "God, I just had one of the most tender, transcendent moments of human interaction in recent memory, and you guys are ruining it with all your inane bickering."

Howard diverted their eyes, temporarily shamed into silence. Not Raj.

"Dude, she's never gonna call you," he said.

Leonard rolled his eyes, and turned around.

Amy suddenly returned. "That man was unquestionably the rudest person I've encountered yet. For the life of me, I can't see why inquiries about a monkey provoke so much antipathy in the general public."

Leonard just sighed. "Let's just get out of here, guys."

* * *

**END NOTE:** Thanks for the kind feedback. I love hearing from you guys.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

Ten minutes after bidding Penny a good evening, Leonard and the gang hadn't moved an inch. The simple fact was, they had nowhere to go. No one particularly felt like walking back to the Red Cross, the men's shelter was an absolute no-go, and the only one who knew anyone who lived within a five-mile radius was Amy, a man she described as "a sex offender they had studied during a research study on the brain of psychopaths." Worse, the sun was already beginning its journey over the horizon, which meant that time was _not_ on their side. Leonard ruminated on these factors aloud, as much to himself as anyone else. The summary left Sheldon with one question:

"So I take it you don't have a plan, then?"

"OF COURSE I DON'T HAVE A PLAN," Leonard yelled. "And tell me again why I am the only one who bothers coming up with any plans? If I left you guys alone, you'd be dead on the street in fifteen minutes."

"Despite my exceeding qualifications as a leader," Sheldon said, "you have established yourself as our Wanderer-in-Chief and we've come to regard you as such. If this were the Star Trek Enterprise, you would be Kirk—our impulsive and horny captain. Howard would be Bones—the sarcastic grump. Raj would be Scotty—the foreigner with a weird accent."

"Seriously?!" Raj said. "Scotty, like me, is a career scientist and essential member of the team, and all you can say about him is that he talked funny when he was on a ship full of _aliens_?"

Sheldon turned to him, his face blank. "Yes."

"So let me guess," Leonard said. "You're Spock."

"Naturally," Sheldon replied. "Someone has to be the voice of reason."

Amy tapped him on the shoulder. "Who am I?" she asked.

"Uhura," Sheldon replied, without a moment's hesitation.

"Why? " Amy asked with some irritation. "Because she's a girl?"

"Of course not," Sheldon said. "Because she has an understanding of and fondness for non-human species."

Amy smiled, clearly flattered. "I accept that assessment," she said.

"You should," Sheldon said. "It's a good one."

A second later, the faint sound of yelling could be heard, and Leonard turned to the source of the sound. Penny had reappeared in the building lobby, and he could see her shadow through the building's transparent facade, sobbing uncontrollably. A man that fit the description of Kurt was right behind her, wearing only a loincloth. Well, actually, it was a towel, but with his physique, it looked like a loincloth. They were yelling at each other, and Penny was gesturing wildly in between wiping tears from her eyes. Leonard was the only one who noticed the argument, but the shock on his face meant they all turned to see what had taken his attention. A minute later she stormed outside and Kurt was in hot pursuit.

"When I didn't hear from you, I thought something had happened to you!" he said in a pained tone of voice. "I knew you would have wanted me to be strong and move on."

"In ten hours?" Penny said. "My body isn't even _cold_ yet."

"That's because you're still alive," he said.

"OH MY GOD!" she yelled. "ARE YOU REALLY THAT IDIOTIC?!"

"Baby, you don't mean that," he said, and reached out for her, but she took a swift step backwards, avoiding his touch. She gritted her teeth in frustration.

"I am not your friggin' baby" she said, "and guess what? I found somebody, too." She turned around and started marching. Leonard saw, as if in slow motion, a blonde missile barreling towards him with red eyes and clenched fists. The part of his brain that knew Kurt could neutralize him with a single blow almost made Leonard move out of the way, but the part of his brain that hadn't been kissed in, well, a _very_ long time stood waiting for what only those two supple lips could deliver. Seconds later, Penny grabbed his head and planted him with a lingering, full-mouthed, passionate kiss. Leonard emerged from the amorous act winded and lightheaded—having been robbed of all breath—but in a haze of euphoria. He would soon need those endorphins.

Kurt was in his line of sight next—and was headed his way. Leonard did what anyone in his situation would do. He took off running.

"Even if you kill him," –_Really, Penny? Introducing the idea of murder?_ — "we are still OVER!" she yelled.

It was the last thing Leonard heard before his legs carried him off with near Kryptonian speed. When he stopped about two-and-a-half blocks later—wheezing and desperately wanting his inhaler—he turned around and… no one was following. Apparently, his life would be spared.

He waited awhile, unsure of what to do next, but knew better than to go back. A couple minutes later, coming his way were Howard, Raj, Sheldon, Amy… and Penny.

"Wow," Amy said. "That was a rather impressive sprint back there. I would have loved to get a sample of your brain chemistry in that moment."

"He always runs that fast when he's getting bullied," Sheldon said casually. "We've made that harried sprint together on occasion."

"Interesting," Amy said. She looked back at Leonard. "Your dopamine levels must be through the roof. How do you feel?"

Leonard, who was bent over and leaning on his knees, fought to focus and answer. "Um, dizzy, exhausted, achy, and a little ill."

Amy nodded. "Textbook symptoms of a person who is recovering from norepinephrine and epinephrine withdrawal. Your brain chemicals are in flux, thus the dizziness, and you likely overexerted yourself, hence the pain. What, exactly, are the symptoms of your 'illness?'?"

"Um, thanks, Amy, for your concern," he managed to say between gasps for air, "but I really don't feel like answering any questions right now. I think I just saw my life flash before my eyes."

"Also a symptom that immediately precedes an adrenaline rush. You are a veritable test case for the physiology of 'fight or flight.'"

Leonard, however, was too worn out to care. "Ugh," he moaned and lowered himself to the curb. Penny lowered herself next to him. Suddenly, he felt significantly better.

"I can't believe that bastard cheated on me," she said.

He'd figured that's what had happened, but to look into those otherworldly eyes and hear those words come from her mouth defied reason. "God, Penny," he said. "I am so, so sorry."

"It's not your fault," she said, and the first tear meandered down her cheek. She dropped her hand into her hands. "God, how can a bad day just keep getting worse?"

"Tell me about it," Sheldon said. "I haven't eaten in twelve hours. That Twinkie notwithstanding."

"He isn't worthy of you," Leonard said, ignoring Sheldon's comment. "If you really think about it, he did you a favor."

Penny looked up quizzically at that statement, her eyes damp and puffy. "How could he possibly have done me a favor?"

"Well, think about it," Leonard explained. "A relationship is only as strong as its weakest moments. In your weakest moment, he failed. Some people don't find that out until it's too late."

She nodded to herself. "I guess you're right," she said, wiping another tear from her eye. "I mean, if I'm being totally honest with myself, I knew he wasn't the best guy in the world, but I thought he at least loved me." She looked away. "I wish I could just find a nice boy who adored me and thought I was beautiful and just wouldn't cheat on me."

It took everything Leonard had not to pledge his undying love right then and there. "I'm sure he's a lot closer than you think," he said.

"I hope so," she said. Then she looked at Leonard, and bumped a shoulder against his, a smile peeking out from the gloom. "Thanks."

"No problem."

She laid her head on his shoulder, and sighed.

* * *

Night had crept up on the group, and the final rays of sunlight were flashing over the horizon when they all realized they still didn't have a place to stay for the night. Suggestions came fast and furiously, but real solutions were fleeting. Penny had briefly contemplated crashing at one of her friend's pads, but she didn't have the heart to leave everyone behind or the balls to ask if her friend had room for six. Leonard suggested a hotel, but the nearby Howard Johnson was already overbooked, and the desk clerk said that all the other lodging facilities that were even still taking guests were full as well. Sheldon had suggested that they walk back to the car, until Leonard had reminded him that the car only held five and, despite Howard's insistence that Penny could sit on his lap, that idea got nixed. Penny had even suggested that they split into men and women shelters, but Leonard thought they were safer together and insisted he could never live with himself if something happened to her or Amy. After that, the ideas ran dry.

_Sigh._

Just when they thought they were doomed to just keep walking all night like sharks treading water in their sleep, Howard revealed what should have been suggestion number one.

"I know my mom is somewhere wondering where I am. I can hear her now, 'I THOUGHT THE BOYS WOULD HAVE BEEN BACK WITH WATER BY NOW. I HOPE HOW-ARD ISN'T SOMEWHERE LOOTING STORES AND RAPING WOMEN WITH THAT INDIAN BOY, RAJ."

"Hold on," Leonard said. "Where is your mom?"

"At home."

"And your house is, like, still standing?"

Howard reflected on the question. "We lost a couple bricks on the eastside and the pilot light—"

"We're sleeping at your house," Leonard declared and marched off in its direction. After a moment, everyone just kind of walked off behind him. They paired off in rows like kindergarteners with hall buddies: Penny and Leonard, followed by Sheldon and Amy, followed by Howard and Raj—who trailed behind, out of earshot of the women.

"I'm not going to regret going with you guys, am I?" Penny asked Leonard.

"A good question," Amy said in agreement. "My security is of utmost importance, particularly in the absence of my guard monkey."

"It'll be fine," Leonard reassured them. "They house has plenty of room and Howard's mom is pretty much the most hospitable person you will ever meet."

"I beg to differ," Sheldon said. "My mother puts Howard's mother to shame. Does Howard's mother warm your bath towels in the dryer each morning for her houseguests?"

"I have no idea," Leonard answered.

"It's safe to say she doesn't. Her obesity precludes her from an early morning jaunt to the utility room, am I right?"

"Hold on," Penny said to Leonard, oblivious to Sheldon's chatter, "why would Howard's mom think he would be out raping _women_? I mean, he shouldn't be raping anyone, but he definitely wouldn't be raping _women_, would he?"

"Yeeeaaah," Leonard said, his face changed to a wide smile. "He's not actually gay."

"He's not?" Penny said, incredulous.

"Nope."

"You mean, he wasn't gay before he met Raj?"

"As tempting as it is to answer 'yes' to that question," Leonard replied, "he likes girls and always has. A lot. A lot. _A lot._"

Penny shook her head. "But I could have sworn I've seen Raj kiss Howard on the cheek, more than once."

"Yeah, about that," Leonard said. "He's actually whispering in Howard's ear. Raj can't talk in front of women."

"You're kidding me?" Penny said.

"Sadly, no."

Penny looked ahead dumbfounded. "So when Howard said I could sleep on his lap he wasn't just being gentlemanly?"

"Nope. He was being creepy and forward."

"And when he said that my breasts were the high point of this dreary evening, I thought it was just a gay thing."

"Actually, that's just a Howard thing."

Every statement brought a new wave of shock. "When he told me he wanted to have my babies, I just figured he and Raj were considering surrogacy or something."

"Howard? A father?" Leonard scoffed. "He eats his morning cereal out of a dish that reads 'this is by BIG BOY bowl' that his mother bought him when he turned five. Unfortunately, she failed to teach him how to pour his own cereal and milk."

"I feel a little faint," she said, reaching for Leonard.

Leonard tucked his arm under hers, keeping her on her feet. She didn't pull away. "No fainting on my watch," he said. "That feeling will become familiar after a while."

Meanwhile, Amy was contemplating her own evening. "Does Howard live nearby?" she asked Sheldon.

"I would estimate the distance at a 45-minute walk."

"Considering the compromised state of many footpaths, coupled with our collective fatigue, I imagine that we will arrive closer to an hour from now."

"I'm afraid your estimation may be correct." Sheldon thought a moment. "Then shall we pass the time with another round of anti-truths?"

Amy wanted to say yes, but her thoughts were drifting between Franklin and her mother, and both thoughts kept her in a state of dull anxiety. She turned to Sheldon whose face was bright. She admired his bravery in the face of so much turmoil, anxiety, and...filth. "Are you scared?" she asked.

The question seemed to take him by surprise, and he paused for the briefest moment before continuing to walk. "Why would I be afraid?" he asked.

"Well, I keep hearing you talk about your mother, and she seems like a lovely person. I would imagine that someone with a parent as dear as her may find that confronting their own grisly mortality and the potential grief that may cause the loved ones left behind a dreadful prospect. Such dark thoughts would, naturally, elicit feelings of fear and helplessness."

There was a long pause before Sheldon answered. "Amy, you have such a lovely way of expressing things."

"Thank you," she said.

"And for the record, I am not afraid. With our smarts, Leonard's plucky sensibility, and Penny's sexual magnetism, we will get out of this mess."

"I hope you're right," Amy said. They walked silently a while longer, not saying anything, and mindful of every crack in their path.

"I hope you find your monkey, Amy," he said.

She glanced at him with smiling eyes. "I hope so, too."

Raj and Howard plodded along, anticipating the night ahead of them. He and Howard trailed the others at a distance.

"Promise me that I will still be able to sleep on the air mattress on the foot of the bed," Raj said. "I slept over at your place last night, thus I would think my position is secured."

"Don't ever talk to me about sleeping in my room and use the words 'wood' or 'position,' okay?"

"It wasn't that kind of 'wood' and you know what I meant."

"You really have to be more careful about the things you say."

"Really?! Just blame the guy with selective mutism for why people think _you're_ gay."

"People don't think _I'm_ gay. They think _you're_ gay and then just figure I must be your boyfriend."

"Oh come on. The tight jeans and mommy issues?"

"I DO NOT HAVE MOMMY ISSUES," Howard said. "It's a temporary living arrangement until, until, until…"

"Until you die?" Raj said.

Howard grimaced and waited a beat to reply. "Sheldon gets the air mattress."

"NOOO!" Raj wailed.

Just then the group was approached by a cop.

"Hello," he said, with a tone befitting a person in law enforcement.

His salutation was met with a chorus of "Hello, Officer."

"You should know that the mayor has imposed a mandatory curfew at 8:00." That time was minutes away.

"But we are trying to get back to Wood Heights where our friend lives," Leonard explained.

"You'll never make it on foot," the officer said. "The bridge that connects these two sections collapsed during the aftershock. See if you can find something local—maybe a shelter. If not, you may find yourself in detention."

"Detention?!" Sheldon exclaimed. "And I imagine you'll be supplying the chalk for us two write 'I will not break curfew after an earthquake' 100 times on a blackboard."

"So you're a smartass?" the cop said, unamused.

"It does seem like a rather juvenile punishment," Amy said.

"He means we could spend the night in a holding cell at the county jail," Leonard explained.

"Ahhh," Sheldon and Amy said in unison.

Leonard rolled his eyes. "Don't get out your handcuffs just yet. We'll get on that officer," he said and pat him on the shoulder. The officer looked at the hand with a silent disproval. Leonard removed it. "Don't you worry about us. I got the perfect place we can crash not even, not even a _block_ from here."

"Good to hear," the cop said. He tipped his hat. "Night ladies, gentlemen." He walked away.

"Great!" Sheldon said once the policeman had gone. "So you've found a place for us to slumber?"

"No clue," Leonard replied. "But we couldn't have that cop trailing us all night."

"You mean you lied to a member of law enforcement?" Sheldon said, appalled.

"Yes," Leonard said, without any sign of remorse.

"My, your certainly descend into anarchy at the slightest sign of trouble," Sheldon said. "What's next? Cannibalism?"

Leonard stopped, looking Sheldon dead in the eye and slowly licked his lips. "I don't know. Keep talking and we'll find out."

* * *

Missy awoke suddenly and took groggy stock of her surroundings: she'd fallen asleep on the sofa, and suffered from the stiffness that came with sleeping in an upright position. She squinted at the DVD player across from her; it was a little after 10:00—or 8:00 Los Angeles time. Apparently there was still no word from Sheldon.

It had been a draining day. After anxiously pacing Meemaw's living room floor for the better part of three hours, Mary had begun to call around to see if anyone had heard from Sheldon. She started with her few contacts in Los Angeles—mostly people she'd met whenever she went to church in Pasadena or at one of Sheldon's science events. But most of her contacts were unreachable, and those that were had moved away or didn't even know Sheldon at all. Her frustration soon led to her deciding to just contact every single person in her address book, and she charged Missy with the task of making the calls. Hours went by with call after unfruitful call to people throughout Texas, the Mid-West and even the Eastern seaboard. Missy had grown tired of having awkward conversations with sympathetic—though confused—relatives, friends and distant acquaintances in Florida, Wisconsin and New Jersey, unclear as to how they could possibly be of assistance. By the time they'd gotten to the Ts, Missy had suggested they try something—_anything_—else, a suggestion that somehow escalated into a full-blown argument, as she and a stubborn Mary locked horns. Missy finally had stormed out, her boyfriend Tucker in tow, but had come back a while after having a Whataburger and a good cry.

Hours later, here she was. She looked over and saw Meemaw asleep in her recliner. Next to Missy, on the sofa, was George watching CNN, or rather, CNN was watching him; he'd fallen asleep on the armrest, his head in a position that was going to have his neck in knots come morning. She'd sent Tucker back to his place hours ago; he had work in the morning, and he'd been a champ all day. That just left one person uncounted for.

She tapped George on the arm, who woke up with a start, then with a loud groan. He grabbed his neck.

"Damn," he said.

"Where's Mom?" she asked.

"In Meemaw's room," he slurred, and sat up, eyes closed. "She went to go lie down. I think she's just exhausted."

Missy nodded and, peeling herself from the couch, headed to the back of the house. She knocked on her mother's bedroom door, but got no answer. She gently let herself in anyway.

She found Mary in the dark, kneeling by the bed and praying.

"Mom?" she said, and turned on the light.

"Turn out that light, Missy," Mary said tersely. Missy did so, then stood a few moments, quietly watching her mother. She had to be hungry.

"You want something to eat?" Missy offered.

Mary shook her head, but Missy wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

"Mom, you have to eat something," she pleaded. "Please, let me bring you something. Meemaw's got some bean soup in the fridge."

Mary opened her eyes, keeping her sight trained on the bed. "I _said_ I don't want anything."

"But, you haven't eaten since this morning and you're exhausted. You're going to faint if you—"

"Look, Missy," Mary said, her voice sharp, "I can't take your nagging right now, okay?"

There was a moment of silence between the women. "Fine," Missy said, relenting, and was about to turn to leave when she caught the sight of tears welling in her mother's eye. Mary placed an open palm over her eyes, fighting to keep control, then brushed the moisture away with her finger and took a hard breath. Missy's heart was breaking. She was scared for Sheldon, of course, but she couldn't even imagine what her mother was going through. She walked over and placed a hand on her Mary's shoulder, who then grabbed and held it tightly. "I pray this never happens to you, Missy," she said, her voice weak. "When you and Tucker start having babies, I pray this never happens."

Missy didn't know what to say, and could feel her own bottom lip trembling. "I'll bring you some tea," she said.

Mary just nodded.

Missy walked to the kitchen and poured sweet tea from Meemaw's Tupperware jug into a glass tumbler. Crossing the others who were still sleeping in the living room, she tip-toed back down the hall and found her mother had resumed her position of solemn entreaty. She approached slowly, tapping her mother on the shoulder. Mary looked up and then took the tumbler, gulping heartily from the refreshing liquid. She reached up, handing the glass back to Missy and then looked up at her daughter with saddened and sleepy eyes, like a child might look up at a parent. Missy placed the tumbler on the nightstand, and then dropped down to the floor, kneeling next to her mother. She put her hands together, bowed her head and began to pray.

* * *

Penny promised the gang that she knew of a spot where they could hang out, and maybe even spend the night, just a few minutes away. Out of options and avoiding the police, they trudged through the (now dark) street debris on hope and a prayer.

They were rounding yet another corner when Amy heard a familiar cry she would recognize anywhere:

Franklin!

* * *

**END NOTE:** Thanks to all my readers, especially to those leaving feedback. I can only say thank you.


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